Fairytales and Hokum
by Kim The Manipaltive Little Mo
Summary: A prologe to the film, dealing with some secrets in Evy's life. Pre-Mummy. Please read and review


Title: Fairy Tales and Hokum

Rating: R

Author: Kim, The Manipulative Little Monster

Archive: Sure if you want it, just send me an email.

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody. I'm poor.

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Prologue

  
  


"She's not going to be that type of girl." I can still hear my mother's voice as she says those words. I remember how I used to love to listen to her soft lilting voice for hours, getting lost in the old Egyptian legends. If I close my eyes very tightly I can feel her skin on mine as she held me, spell the scent that was exclusively her's. The smell of the hot dessert sun, and the Cyprus trees that lined the ways of the garden. There was something else, even though it always gets elusive when I tried to place it. Now, after everything, I know what it is: ancient magic.

  
  


Ancient magic. Perhaps this is what I should title my life, my story. Ancient magic of ancient curses that have been my destiny. I remember when I was eight, my mother took both Jonathan and myself to the Destiny Teller. That's where my mother repeated the words that would come to define my existence. Perhaps the heady scent of the intense incense from that day clouded my mind but I can remember what the old woman said to me.

  
  


She trembled when she saw me, when she looked deep into my eyes. I can hear her gasp as it raced around the little tent that was a cocoon to the senses. Her voice was shaking as she spoke in the old language and her fingers moved into protective symbols as if of their own accord. Her eyes were drawn to the statue of Isis in the corner. 

  
  


It's very odd for though I know what she said now, and would if she spoke in the same tongue, I didn't understand it back then. And yet I did. Yes, I know what a contradiction that is but I could hear and understand every word she said. Her tone was that of a specter, and she spoke slowly as if she was pulling the words from the heart of the Underworld itself.

  
  


My Mother pulled me deep into her embrace as the woman's words washed over us like the Spring flooding of the Nile.

  
  


"Your daughter has no mortal destiny in the world. The Dark God's reach will become greater because of the girl. She shall find the books of Light and Dark and read them, causing the deepest horrors Egypt has known.

  
  


"The Dark God's servant will come to her call, and claim her heart. Beware of the man who saves her from his bleak embrace, for he shall cause her great harm. She shall end the plagues and damn her very soul for all time. Beware the legend of Anck-Su-Namun; she is resting deep inside her, and the pain that she knows, owns the girl. 

  
  


"Beware those of the Med-jai for they have secrets that they too keep. The child's feet must remain on the ground if the child is to live to see her fate. Should her head be pulled into the air, all shall parish. I can see she is already there. Take the cursed child from me."

  
  


All this time I was shaking violently, knowing the woman's truth deep in my soul. It was if it had twisted all of my ideas of the past into some odd flight of fancy. The name she had spoken rang in my head and I knew it, somehow I knew it. I know my Mother felt the truth too. I could tell in the way she pulled herself up into her full height.

  
  


I was proud of her then, as she looked like a great Princess of old. Her voice was a cold, steady hiss. It was a tone I didn't even know my mother used. She stepped closer to the woman and took her hands, making her look deep into my Mother's black eyes. 

  
  
  
  


" She is not going to be that type of girl. Listen to me old woman. You talk to much. She shall end the plague that was released all those years ago, undo the wrongs. You know me, woman. Look deep into my eyes and see what I have seen, see what I know. Know who I am. Your words will not leave this tent, never again will you say what you said. Truths or lies, they both die here and now."

  
  


I never really understood what she was talking about, or what she pulled from her pocket to show the old woman. All I know is her face blanched and she pulled away with deep fear. I took a step back and knocked over a Jackal and Lamb's board. My hand was raised to my face as I pulled off the spectacles that I had just started to wear. "Oops, I'm very sorry."

  
  


Eyes flashed to me and it seemed for a moment that another person had borrowed my mother's eyes to stare at me. I blinked slowly and that feral look had vanished, those phantom eyes were gone and she was Mum again. Her voice even sounded normal as she spoke in her soft tone, "It's alright, Evy. We're done here."

  
  


And with that she walked to me and picked me up, turning towards the door. As she pulled it up the sun seemed to brighten and pull in on us. I blinked and quickly put my hand to my face as the old woman's cackling tone rang out behind us. "Beware the wrath of Amun-Ra, he looks to burn her up already. Beware his book for it bewitches. Beware, daughter of Pharaohs, beware child of the child, of the child, of the child, and all the children of your line born of hate. The peace you promise shall never be fulfilled. Never, ever, ever!"

  
  


The woman's hate filled ratings followed us from the tent as my mother ran on light feet. I tried not to notice the tears that were sliding over her cheeks. The words she spoke over and over, as if they were a charm to keep us safe, "You're not the type of girl for fairytales, not that type of girl."

  
  


But she was wrong, for the fairytale had already chosen me, long before I was born.

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Chapter One

  
  


But for all that, it probably shouldn't be the start of my story. I actually don't know where my story begins anymore. After all I have been shifted backwards and forwards through time so many times. Every night the old dreams that haunted me when I was a child make their horrid appearance. Perhaps I should have recognized Imhotep  when I saw him, even as a mummy. I had seen that horrible visage many times. And it always brought chilling screams to my throat.

  
  


Fairytales and hokum, that's what my Father would say, in his deep manly voice as both he and Mother came into my room when awaked by screams. She would rock me in her arms, looking like something from far beyond in the past in her night shift. But he would soften, always as my eyes would be wide with tears. He never could say angry with me for very long. 

  
  


Perhaps that's what started my education, that need to allay me of my fears of things that would go bump in the night. I can still remember his words as he showed me around what would become the most famous find of all time, the Tomb of King Tut. Of course he was always called by his full rightful name around the dinner table on the dig. But then again I am digressing.

  
  


Any time some new artifact was removed from the earth, the diggers who stare and quake, muttering in arabic about a curse. That sort of talk always frightened me, but my father would have none of it. One day, as the sun shone high on the Sahara my father took me to the top of a high dune and we looked down on the small city of tents below.

  
  


I can smell his aftershave, and see him standing there, looking every bit the gentleman explorer in his khaki clothes. He knelt down and pulled out a small piece of stone, it was worn but covered with hieroglyphics. His deep voice was tender as he rolled my tiny fingers over it.

  
  


"You see this, Evy? This is real, not all those curses and myths the diggers speak of. If you could read it you can see it tells of another myth of a city, Hamunaptra. It's a myth Evy. Never forget, believe only what you can see and feel. Treasures aren't always measured in gold as your brother would have you believe either. Sometimes dreams are just dreams. They cannot hurt you unless you allow them to, you remember that."

  
  


I remember giving a rather grave nod to my Father and two fingers were pulled, crossed over my heart as if making a solemn vow. The fingers of my other hand rolled over the paint that was laced over the stone, eyes focusing, trying to make sense of what I found there. In my awed best little girl's voice I asked him solemnly, "Father, could you teach me how to read the pictures, like you taught Jonathan too?"

  
  


As always in my family, my rake of a brother brought a silent pause. My father very carefully patted me on the head as he looked into the sands. "Evy, I think we shall make an explorer of you yet. I am sure that you shall even prove a better student then your brother." Almost under his breath he added, " One would hope so."

  
  


And that day my Father taught me my first bit of hieratic. The name of the city that would rule my fate: Hamunaptra; City of the Dead; resting place of the wealth of Egypt, resting place of the one who would put his finger to the heavens and change my soul forever.

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Well everyone what do you think? Should I write more? I need your comments to let me know.


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